


Revelation

by ThreeMagpies



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Another road to Willoughby story, Gen, Slow Burn Charlie Matheson/Bass Monroe, charloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13003212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeMagpies/pseuds/ThreeMagpies
Summary: A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson; Charloe. A Revolution fic (Blackout AU): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson; Charloe. A ‘Road to Willoughby story - set the first couple of days after Pottsboro. This is a prequel to another story of mine, ‘Hunger.’ Bass saves Charlie again and it's the start of something else...





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note: Thanks for dropping by and hope you enjoy :) I had fun with this one, hope you do too.

‘What makes you think you’ve got a choice.’ His words went round and round in her head in time with every single stupid bump and pothole in the road as Charlie lay on the floor in back of the wagon. She’d given up trying to get any kind of comfortable and was just letting herself roll with the punches, not that she had a choice. 

That didn’t stop her twisting her wrists against the rope for the ten thousandth time though, but Monroe had made damn sure she couldn’t get loose and escape the way he did. Her ankles were tied together with the rope attached to one of the wagon corner posts, and her hands were tied behind her back with the end of that rope pulled up to the driver’s seat and looped around his left boot. 

He could feel every move she made.

She was so dry it hurt, and sucking on the rounded stone he’d given her to stop her getting too thirsty wasn’t working. But at least he’d given her a bedroll to lie on, which’d be ok except that there was something hard in it that was digging into her right thigh where she was already bruised from the fight in the bar. Her butt was beginning to go numb too and there was an itch on her nose that just wouldn’t quit.

She huffed, rubbed her nose against a piece of rope and twisted round to look through a gap in the metal of the van, hissing in pain as the elbow she’d smashed into the window back in that bar caught on the edge of something hard. Yanking hard on the rope hitching her to his ankle she called up to him.’Monroe? Are we going to stop anytime soon? I need to pee…’ Damn it, she hated how pathetic she sounded.

His foot didn’t move an inch, it was like trying to move a tree. ’Take it easy, Charlotte, we’ll be stopping after a couple more miles. The horses’ll need a break by then.’ He was calm, reasonable and totally insufferable.

She caught a glimpse of ironic blue eyes and sweat dark scruff and held back a scream of frustration, tasting blood when her teeth grazed one of the cuts on the inside of her cheek. 

Fuck the horses. Fuck him. She was the one who needed a break. Her head hurt, in fact everything hurt, she’d been hurting since Pottsboro and what made it even worse was that she was stuck with Sebastian fucking Monroe.

Furious, she threw herself back against the back of the wagon, at least as much as she could with the stupid ropes holding her tight. 

The worst of it was that he’d saved her life. It was only a day since he stormed in and rescued her from the men in that bar but it felt like a lifetime. And she’d never forget the look on his face when he shoved his swords through the guy on that pool table. She’d seen it clear as day even through the haze of the drugs they’d given her. 

Jeff had said Monroe looked like cold hell warmed over and he’d been right. His eyes had been cold, empty, deadly, as though the men he’d killed didn’t matter at all.

She shrugged, they didn’t exactly matter to her either and she wasn’t losing any sleep over the fact they were dead. It was just…

He’d more than proved he was good at killing, she had to admit that. Almost as good as Miles. In fact he’d made it look easy. Some part of her even admired him for that, although that didn’t mean she could ever forget who he was, or what he’d done. He’d saved her life, but sorry, his story about it being a show of faith just wasn’t good enough. 

She gritted her teeth, almost ready to tell him her family were in Willoughby, just so she could look forward to seeing Miles kill him. Then a little grin twitched the corner of her mouth, because it was probably a safer bet that her mom’d get him first.

The wagon went over a rock or something, throwing her against the backboard, her wounded, salt shot shoulder first. She yelped, couldn’t help it. 

Then she swallowed the stone.

She coughed but it didn’t move. It was lodged in her throat and she was gagging, choking, couldn’t breath in, couldn’t breathe out…

‘Charlotte?’

She could hear him, kind of, but couldn’t do anything but make gasping rasping sounds as black spots started to float around in front of her eyes. Panic tightened her chest even more as she hauled on the ropes tying her to Monroe with hands she could hardly feel, legs frantically kicking out, but she couldn’t do anything to help herself as the black spots got bigger and bigger and she desperately fought to get some air, any kind of air… 

The wagon stopped, the ropes went slack and light flooded in as the rear doors flew open.

‘What the fuck happened?’ He sounded shocked, almost scared.

She felt a vague sense of surprise about that, but then who’d take him to Miles if she wasn’t around? Then she surprised herself as a huge wave of relief surged through her when she felt his hands on her, his fingers hard, strong, frantic as he worked to undo the knots around her wrists.

‘Hold on, Charlie, I’ve got you.’ 

He sounded almost as though he cared, which obviously made her delusional because she was about to die. Then with the last shreds of consciousness, she wondered if he was going to be in time to save her life again or if she really was going to die from something as stupid and idiotic as choking on a stone.

‘Charlie? Shit…hold on, almost there.’

His voice was fading away and the black spots had all joined up into one big fuzzy black sky. 

Then she was being lifted up and held against the big, strong, warmth of him, his arms hard around her as he flipped her legs over his shoulder so her head and arms were hanging down in front, limp and boneless because the stupid things wouldn’t do anything she told them to. Her hair hung down too, although a strand was caught on his jacket or something, a little burst of pain adding colour to everything, the rest falling over her face. She couldn’t do anything about that either…

’Don't you fucking die on me, Charlie.’ His voice was harsh in her ears, demanding.

A hard blow between her shoulder blades shook her whole body, then another and another and she was coughing, gasping, choking until finally the stone spilled out between her teeth and fell to the floor. In reflex she sucked in air, her lungs hauling as much as they could in huge, desperate breaths that tore at her throat like sandpaper even as she felt life rush back in. The air tasted so good that she didn’t care about that though.

‘Hey…are you ok?’ He still sounded worried, angry too. Did he think it was her fault?

She coughed again and winced. ’Ow. No…I’m not ok. I think I’m going to be sick. And get your hands off my ass.’ Her voice was hoarse, her throat hurt like she’d swallowed cactus and she was still upside down hanging over his shoulder which didn’t help all her other bruises, cuts and contusions. To top it off, his hard thighs in their dirty denim were only inches away from her face, the big heavy bulge between his legs ditto. She tried to ignore that, and the hand on her butt, but the totally male scent and nearness of him swept up her nose and into her brain setting off sparks of jittery sexual awareness that were totally inappropriate in the circumstances. Especially when the male was Sebastian Monroe.

There was silence for a moment. Then he choked off a hard laugh and let her fall to the floor in a tumbled heap half on the bedroll, half on the cold metal of the wagon floor. ’I’m starting to wonder if saving your life every five minutes is worth the fallout.’

She turned and glared up at him, gritting her teeth, leaning on her good arm and her chest heaving as her lungs kept sucking in more air to make up for lost time. ’It’s only been twice, Monroe, so don’t let it go to your head,’ then her mind flashed back to the Tower and his tall, uniformed figure standing over her after he’d shot the crazy guy who’d been about to kill her saying that a thank you would be nice. Her cheeks burned. ’Ok, three times…’

His lips twitched, eyes almost impossibly blue in the sunlight coming in the doors, his hair tinged with gold in the sun. He looked tall and broad and powerful and more than capable of catching her if she made a run for it. ’A thank you would still be nice, Charlotte.’ He tossed her his water bottle. ‘Here, drink, it’ll help your throat.’

She growled something that definitely wasn’t thank you, caught the bottle before it fell and took a long swallow, weirdly conscious that his lips had touched it before hers. 

He stepped over her and down out of the wagon, turning to hold the door frame. ‘Looks like the drugs’ve worn off. You can come and sit up front if you want.’

She sat up, leaning back against the wall. ’What if I want to stay back here?’

He shrugged and picked up the rope, looping it up and making a slip knot at one end. ’All the same to me, but I thought you said you needed to stop,’ He swept a hand out, ‘we’re stopped.’

Charlie looked at the knot then back up at him, ‘I suppose that’s for me?’

‘Can I trust you not to run?’

She held a wrist out, smirking, ‘what do you think?’

He slipped the loop over her hand and tightened it, his fingers stroking the soft skin of her wrist and his eyes holding hers, challenge and something more simmering in the blue depths. ‘At least we understand each other.’

As she stepped out of the van, she moved up close, the mixture of anger, excitement, relief at still being alive and an unexpected, totally un-fucking welcome arousal making her heart pound, the heat from his body sinking into hers like being next to a fire. The spicy, smoky, sweaty scent of him somehow made her want more except she was so close already that their lips were almost, almost touching, her hands tight against the hard muscles of his chest and her thighs brushing his. 

She kissed him hard and fast then pulled back, licking her lips to taste his and enjoying the look of stunned surprise on his face. She smiled, triumphant. ’Don’t count on it, Monroe.’

………………………….

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thanks so much for reading :) I got to thinking about their first few days on the road and couldn’t stop thinking until I wrote it down… cheers, Magpie


End file.
